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Freyd

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  1. Clouds gathered in the distance, thunder pairing oddly with intermittently with stray flashes of lightning, like the two couldn't quite get the rhythm right. Disharmony reigned in the Whisper's heart and mind as he left Aruyt behind him, traversing the open central plains, booted footsteps setting a steady cadence like drums of war that resonated in his ears as much as his mind's eye. One inescapable face occupied his memories, ragged, dirty and relieved from a rescue done in the name of virtue. She had questioned the point. His replies sounded hollow in the wake of her defeat. And, if h
  2. Wide eyed miniature faunes halted their games and ran in terror at the sight of a the faceless black-clad figure that emerged from the gleaming white portal arch in the centre of Aruyt. Storming into existence with the force and rancor of an overwound tornado, he marched through the quaint forest settlement with such determination and purpose that the locals instantly intuited murderous intent. As children scattered from their streetscape playgrounds in search of immediate shelter, adults witnessing the scene unfold fell silent and watched his passage as one might watch a hurtling train boun
  3. People tended to forget how much of communication was actually non-verbal. While Nym might be more aware of it than most, on some level, could she be equally blind to it in others? Normalizing gesture with speech must surely breed familiarity, leading to casual dismissal or expectation of certain throwaway tells. Some of her own, for example, were plain as day to see. Since their conversation started, she'd been shying away and making excuses. At first he wondered if his armor smelled and she was just being polite. Enough mob guts had spilled over it, by now, that he'd likely become accus
  4. Try as he might, there were simply too many around and too much in play to focus against so many disparate targets. All he could manage was the field closest to him; enough to taunt and toss at the frog face of their would-be seaweed-covered fisher king. "T̴̥̝̐͋͂h̵̢͓̫͔̫̭̩̼̞̺̥͋̉̃͋̌̋͂̌̈̋͑͒͂ë̴̡̳̭͈͈̳̝̯̮̻̩͚͚͇̖́̌̀̓̚͜y̶̥̖̯̞̦͖̬͉͚̐͒̅͆̍͠ͅ ̷̨̠͖̣̪̼͉͙̜̥̮̪̎̈́̅͛̆̎̑̕ͅà̵͚̻̠͈͓̐̿̈́̃̊̕͜͝ͅr̸̢̂̽̋̒̆̏̾̎̇̆e̷̡̥̗̹̩̬͓̬̓̃͐͜ ̶͎͎͓͕̜̠̱́̈́͂̅́̈́͐̎̓n̶̡͔͉̠̖̘͚̦̳̤̘̹̔̇́̈͑̓̔̅̔̃͊̎ͅo̸̰̫͎̱̊̈́̑͒̽̓͝͠t̶̡̢͍̹̺̠̝͓͍̫̲͉̥͔̪̃́̉͗̀͆ͅ ̵̨̢̺̲͙̎̀͆̾̀̋̎̒͊̈́̍̆͑̂͗̕y̶̧̲̼̼̹͚͈̦̖̙̽́̈́̈́͋́͐̈́̑̑̓̿͂́͘͘͜o̸̡̼̫̮͕̟̲͙̫̺̤̳̯̘͆͊̂͐̈̈̐ͅů̶̧͍͎̦̜̬̲̺̼̮̙͚͂̂̾̐̏͐̀̂̿̽̂̑͘̕͝
  5. "Ah. Yes. Bart. Sorry, I have a tendency to give mobs nicknames, and the leeching lich is a distinctly pesky fellow." A smirk validated his distaste, knowing he'd have to face the creature with Elora soon enough, and had done so with Katoka not all that long ago. "I hadn't realized you were already this far into the quest chain, though perhaps it shouldn't surprise me. You've always been resourceful." Eyes flicked towards her flittering hands, acknowledging respect for her ongoing efforts to overcome the challenges speech the system could impose, even as other parts aided her efforts.
  6. The armored figure turned to reveal blue eyes blazing at the edge of a darkened overhanging cowl. Easily interpreted as menacing, especially at a distance, the steeply black curved blade sheathed at his hip certainly didn't help. It took him a moment to recognize the young woman in the fog, night vision lacking the added value required to peer through crawling cloud. Is she casting a spell? Hand instantly flicked to hilt, until the eerie swirling green above came into better view. A player? Grip loosed, slightly, head tilting as its contents processed. It had been a while.
  7. Familiar Obtainment Thread: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/41527-f02-pp-coruscating-winds-of-change/?do=findComment&comment=693191 Familiar Name: Reliq (aka Reliquary) Familiar Description: A baby mimic that loves to frolic and inhabit whatever objects and devices it encounters. Outside of an occupied shell, Reliq looks like a deep purple miniature eldritch horror comprised of randomly writhing tentacles, eyes and teeth. It sloughs and shuffles itself around like an octopus on high octane crack, stuffing or expanding its rubbery mass to fit into anything it can find that might p
  8. "None, really," the answer genuine and forthright, yet underpinned with a strange and uncharacteristically gleeful optimism. Freyd actually sounded excited about the prospect of learning about this thing in a way she'd hardly ever seen in him. The wonder in his eyes was nearly child-like, innocent and hopeful, devoid of fear or doubts of any kind. The contrast to his earlier mood at the raid's aftermath was especially striking. Attuned to her as he was, Freyd sensed the shift in Elora's breathing, the relaxation of tense muscles. What must that have taken inside her mind? Calm draw
  9. "You'd think I'd have spent more time here, given the ambiance." Speaking to no one in particular, Freyd stood in the central plaza of Yomi, scouring its eerie haunted streets with a determined blue-eyed gaze. Something had been nattering at the back of his mind ever since the frontlines battered their way into Ilridge upon accessing twenty nine. Something about that place had felt familiar, though he hadn't quite managed to place it until this morning. Staring at the idle bowl of ether from which Persi had once fed, he hadn't yet brought himself to the point where he could toss the linger
  10. "How do we know that's really what it looks like??" He flinched at that one, the barb sinking deeper than she intended, in a place she hadn't meant to strike. "What if it goes back into the walls -- we don't know where it will go next --!" Snaring an open mid-sized jug and a wholly inexplicable plunger from amidst the refuse, Freyd stuffed the wee beastie though its funnel-shaped opening and plumbed it inside. A quick pop and corkscrew cap sealed it in, promptly reinforced with a convenient clamp top. Stuff too tightly to move, all the mini-mimic could do was slowly squirm and
  11. Taint from his last encounter with the darkened crystal still stained his essence, like that damnably indelible spot from a certain Scottish play, and oft fortuning the same sort of doom. He'd learned to use it to great effect, but contact with Shadow's Malevolent blight through Orgoth's veins had forged an umbral tether that resonated to his core. Staring into the empty black orbs of the amber stranger's mask, Freyd saw only the familiar reflected in their voids. A garbled welcome sent hairs on the back of his neck to pinpricks sharp enough to stab with. That voice... like the screechi
  12. Still struggling to catch his own elusive breath, Freyd was only half-aware of Elora's miscellaneous plights. One never seemed to suffice. Instinct warned him that her weapon was in play, she having nearly skewered him more than once with some variation of sharp stick during their adventures. Partners develop a certain innate danger sense for such things, apparently. Somehow, amidst all the unravelling chaos, he managed to catch a better glimpse of the thing as it poured itself from steel casing into occupied elven-shaped leathers. "It's a mimic! I fought one ages ago with Freya, I thin
  13. Freyd listened silently, recalling an eerily similar and recent conversation with another player. He'd found her name on the Monument of Life a week later; killed by a random bandit. Raging at the injustice of it had tested his convictions, but ultimately led him to the same conclusions, and a sigh. "I have grown numb, but am thankfully also aware enough to realize that it's happened. That let me work against it." Gently steering their ride towards a ramshackle stables, Freyd turned to look upon their sleeping wards when they came to a stop. "Aincrad and Cardinal test us by forci
  14. Flailing and failing to find purchase against his nemesis face-sucker, Freyd spun sideways and smashed his face into the nearest solid surface he could feel in a vain effort to get the bloody thing off. It didn't work, triggering instead the avalanche whose initial seismic precepts Elora had already elaborately queued. At least he'd found the chest piece of some gaudily ornate suite of plate mail, and not accidentally mashes himself up again an axe, resplendently pointy morningstar, or a piece with more thorns enhancements than an infernal briar bush. Gong resounding loudly, if also somewha
  15. "Well, to be fair," he began, grateful for her tender touch, yet also impressed by the sheer wall of gathered goods arrayed against them, "my shop actually used to be my backyard, and surrounded by a zombie-infested wilderness. It didn't feel right leaving all of this stuff stacked out in the open in Urbus, when I relocated. And you wouldn't want to see everything else I already keep in my inventory." Sheepishly scratching at his own bearded grimace, Freyd hesitated momentarily. "I might also have stirred the old Angel's Point mess on purpose, occasionally, just to drive Quip crazy an
  16. That she didn't simply dismiss his philosophical musings spoke volumes, but she'd already proven the sharpness of her wit and mind by their interactions to date. Few rose so quickly in the Whisper's esteem. Even the formal tone by which she transacted with this world had loosened, likely the result of peril shared. Life did that when it rattled you and another in the same cage. If there was common ground between all Aincrad's players, that was most likely the vector to find it. Some, sadly, would simply never bother listening. "This place reminds me of a sociology experiment I heard
  17. As Kandy charged, forcing the sand shark to veer wide to avoid her spear, Eulogy and Sable both found purchase and pride as they plunged their weapons into the beast's thick hide. Blood spurted across the sands as Terra Firma frenzied, its giant gnashing maw chomping its way into overdrive in a most terrifying way. His last blow had hurt it, but also left him exposed. Freyd knew the drill, and how much the system loved as temptingly vulnerable target. That was the whole point. Thrashing wildly as its slapped away the other players with sheer bulk, the mutant sand shark flailed itself
  18. "Yue Hua?" He seemed surprised and caught slightly off guard by the drastic change in her appearance. "I suppose this explains some of your distaste for the desert, but also much more common ground with Xena than I might have previously thought." She might have thought him just as much in costume by the beard and added bleaching of his nominally unruly mop, the black having been inexplicably drained to white by Callisto's near-fatal blow. "D&D, you say?" Brow furrowed yet buoyed by a broadening smile as he picked up his preferred molds of prismatic forms for inspection. "I haven't
  19. ...killed by Faultwarren bandit Ghostly embers of two other names hovered over the same spot on the hated monument: Wulfrin's and his own. Both had nearly adorned its blasphemously pristine white surface. Both were saved by inexplicable quirks of fate. Now one named after a goddess of the same vein found herself affixed in their stead. 'It should have been me....' Wulfrin's words, muttered near silence in the raid's aftermath had not and could never be forgotten. But, where his friend had made an error, Freyd had made a choice - one he should not have survived. He'd come to the
  20. Preoccupied by the fog of war waging its way through the backalleys of his own mind, Freyd was moving on instinct, following steps retraced a thousand times over through the thinning crowds and familiar streets of the Town of Beginnings. He'd been to the Hummingbard more times than he could count, knew the way like the back of his hand, even having tried it in his sleep once or twice, though that was more often on the return trip after his business had been concluded. Thus it was, with great surprise, that he found himself standing in some place utterly and complete not where he expected to
  21. Sheer determination drove him, tempered by care that no action might further endanger the poor souls within, Player and NPCs alike. Lines and distinctions faded daily, wrapping around each other like the din of steel on stone to create the background fleshing out the meat of their digital existence. Ever since the first clues and evidence found of the accursed Sundered Spire, a noobish, fledgling Freyd had struggled to think of mobs as naught but disposable things. Especially if they could remember their treatment at players' hands. Some had. Some did. Ferocious conviction in that belief
  22. A wry smile was Xena's only reward, this particular case of cat and mongoose having played out over several recent escapades. Too many raids had gone horribly lethally wrong to be spreading that kind of information around freely. If she kept pressing, he'd have to make up some intricate lie for her to feast upon, enough to sate the woman's relentless curiosity. From Pollux's comments, he managed to discern her trade as an alchemist, making mental note to add her to the list when his potion and crystal stock ran low. Finding a reliable source could prove difficult, especially in the rus
  23. "Sticking to the shadow, eh? Good. That might actually make it easier to spot." Whoever or whatever this thing was had chosen to conceal itself in that which was brightest and most vivid in his sights, save a certain green beacon whose guiding light had always steered him right. But she was already visible, having laid herself bare, in heart and soul, beyond anything he might ever have hoped. Even as Elora followed him into the quaint and cozy depths of their handcrafted home, Freyd scoured every nook, cranny, crack, crevice and hole that might somehow conceal an intruder. Plumbing the v
  24. "Am I okay? What the fuck was that thing!?" All things considered, he thought it quite reasonable a question, even if his eyes had widened more than he'd meant and voice cracked awkwardly in the process. Elora was worried about ghosts and ghouls of a brand you might find in advertisements for children's breakfast cereal, but he'd encountered far worse in this world. Freyd's version of Aincrad carried perils the likes of which would terrify most players by their horrific natures and motives alike. Having just come from a newly unlocked floor entirely overcome by nightmares wasn't exactly h
  25. "Up until Mina addressed you, I thought you were just a manifestation of the custom skill. My own shadow has been strangely silent after the raid." Unphased by the comment, any response of speculation remained locked tight behind an inscrutable facade. Not because it wasn't a fair point. Freyd was just too uncertain about his own fate to offer any real insights, and that was gnawing at him. Whispers like secrets. They also dislike when secrets about themselves are kept from them. Wincing at Mina's kind words for Persi, he still hadn't come to terms with the loss. Pursing his lips, a
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